Hey guys it's able, decided to take a step back from the action for a bit.
Ordinarily I don't ask this but please like, favorite and recommend if you think my little scribbles are worth it. Makes my day with positive reviews and such. If you have constructive criticism by all means share, just don't torch me.
This is pure filler, but I had fun writing it.
Thanks for reading :)
Arantara.
0745 Hours.
Asher strode onto the gunship and was the last man in his unit off the planet.
Arantara had been a massive success, the destruction of the Core Ships and the droid factory had been a sucker punch to the Separatist efforts in the outer rim.
Rex had been wounded later on, his helmet shattered. Asher had treated him personally, assessing him for a concussion. Other than getting his bell rung the 501st Captain was fine.
The flight was short enough to reach low orbit where the rest of the small fleet sat. A rough rumble of turbulence as they left the grasp of the desert world. The gunship listed slightly, letting him know they'd entered the hangar before gently setting down.
Asher stepped into the hangar and checked the roster of casualties. Thankfully no deceased, the cremation room would remain cold on board the Valkyrie. He had plenty of wounded, himself included and their final casualty caused a frown and a sigh.
Commander Sul's name sat on the roster like an obscene gesture. A punch in the gut and spit in his face. He should've been there, her first combat action and she damn near bit the dust.
He made a mental note to visit her and the others and bring some sort of spirit lifter.
As he took his bucket off, the AAT they had stolen was slowly lowered into the hangar. A trophy for the team that Showtime had affectionately called, "The Mile high club."
His brother stood next to him, Asher already knew who it was and could feel the tension inside him.
"You wanna explain what happened down there?" Jace asked bluntly.
Asher pressed his lips into a firm line as the tank slammed into the deck.
"What do you want me to say?" Asher asked curtly.
"Don't give me that shab, you know exactly what I mean."
"The Geonosians." Asher sighed.
"Yes, the bugs, you lost your cool."
"So what if I did?"
Jace squared up to his brother and crossed his arms.
"That put all of us at risk, you didn't use a knife to keep it quiet you used it because you wanted to hurt them."
Asher's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, he looked out into the black of space just past Jace. He couldn't bear to meet the accusing glare.
"You think you're the only one that has nightmares about that day?" Jace asked, "You aren't the only one who lost brothers."
Asher threw his bucket into the ground and seethed.
"I didn't just lose them they died under my hands! You know now how it feels to work so hard to keep someone alive for them to just fade! I'm reminded of it when I look in a mirror!" He roared, pointing angrily at his facial scar.
The clatter of his helmet and his outburst had caused the work on the hangar to come to a standstill. Troopers paused in their tasks to glance his way and Asher's form flooded with shame.
Jace stood calmly, ramrod straight.
"I know you hate them, I do too. But brother down there? That wasn't you."
Asher's breathing slowed down, and his posture relaxed.
"I've been talking to General Nema here and there, I want you to do the same, it helps."
"What?" Asher spat.
"Just talk to her ner vod, this is eating you up I see it."
"No, I'm not a defect I'm fine, I don't need a karking shrink."
"What all of us feel because of Geonosis and some of the new guys feel after Arantara is not a defect, we're human." Jace said putting a comforting hand on his Captain's shoulder and giving it the familiar firm shake.
Jace knelt and picked up Asher's helmet, gently handing it to him.
"Just talk to her vod, please." Jace implored.
Asher took the helmet, shut his eyes and sighed.
"Fine."
Asher entered the medical bay with a tray of pastries in hand. The beds were filled with troopers mostly from Hammer and Sword. Nestled in the far back in her own little corner was Commander Sul.
As he walked down the rows he left a treat for the unconscious ones and handed them to the conscious. The smiles and gratitude bolstered his mood from earlier.
Jace's words were like a razor blade, cutting him deep but he was right.
He ground his teeth, dreading what the session could mean.
As he neared Commander Sul's bed he found General Nema and Cutter standing side by side.
"Ma'am, First Sergeant." Cutter greeted.
"Sir." Cutter snapped to.
"Relax." Asher said simply.
"How is she?" He asked General Nema.
"She's stable, knee was completely shattered and her jaw was cracked. We had to rush her to surgery in orbit. Bacta immersion as well as some dental implants."
The Jedi Doctor looked like she'd barely slept, doting on her Padawan and all the other wounded.
"You should get some sleep, the both of you. I'll stay with her." Asher said.
Cutter nodded while Rig Nema opened her mouth but Asher beat her to the punch.
"This time ma'am I'm in charge, sleep. She's not going anywhere."
She shut her mouth and nodded, giving her Padawan one last caring glance.
"I'll be seeing you later Captain, just before dinner." General Nema said before taking her leave.
Cutter merely nodded, casting one last glance toward the unconscious Jedi before taking his leave.
The Medic Captain sat, the cheap chair groaning under him as he got comfortable, armor and all.
Her pink skin was darker around her puffy cheek, a line of neat stitches traced her jawline, her first battle scar he wagered.
In this line of work that was no surprise, no Clone worth his armor that saw combat didn't have any save the lucky few.
Asher grimaced, still nursing a brand new one on his chest.
Her hair was a tangled mess, the Commando droid had yanked out a fistful and toward the back of her head he could see where it abruptly went from long to short. Showtime could salvage it when she woke, despite his faults he was good behind the stick and with some clippers.
He pulled his datapad and began his reports, both for the initial landing and the infiltration op he and his team had done.
At around lunchtime Cutter returned, three containers of food from the dining facility stacked neatly in his hands.
"Still out cold sir?" The First Sergeant asked.
"Not a peep besides a snore or two." Asher shrugged, taking the box of food gratefully, "What's for lunch?"
Cutter placed the food he'd grabbed for her on the table by her bed with a sigh.
"Pashi noodles and some kinda meat that probably isn't what they say it is."
Asher tore into the meal as Cutter pulled up a chair and did the same. Regardless of the mystery meat it was the first real food he'd had outside of ration cubes and that made it the most delicious thing he'd had in quite some time.
Cutter had the same gusto with his meal and almost choked on it when Reha sat up with a small gasp, shooting up and shouting.
"Gah!" Cutter yelped causing wounded clones and medical personnel to glance his way.
Asher raised a brow amused, and Cutter gave a glare that demanded his silence.
"Welcome back Commander." Asher smiled, setting down his empty container.
"Asher? Cutter? Wha- oh my head." She groaned, hands going to her temples.
"Hey take it easy ma'am, got banged up good by a clanker down there." Asher soothed, hands gently guiding her down.
"I-I remember… my leg!"
She tore the cover off and her leg sat immobilized by a brace.
"W-what happened?" She asked, eyes wide.
"Commando droid shattered your patella and tore your meniscus. General Nema performed surgery and you spent hours in a bacta tank. Should make a full recovery in about a week." Cutter explained.
Reha breathed a sigh of relief as Cutter gently tucked her back in.
"You hungry?" Asher asked.
"Starving." She groaned, eyes shut.
Cutter grabbed the box of food he'd nabbed for her and placed it onto her lap with a set of utensils and she dug in gratefully.
Asher commed General Nema and she picked up almost immediately.
"Captain?" She asked.
"Commander Sul is awake ma'am. Besides being a little hungry she's doing fine."
"Thank the Force." Rig Nema gushed, "Is she eating? How is she? Is she in pain?"
"Cutter snagged her food ma'am, painkiller cocktail is fading, she's got a headache but she'll be alright." Asher soothed.
He heard a pleased sigh, and she took a steadying breath.
"Thank you Captain, I'll let the medical droids know she needs a few pain tablets. I will see you this evening for our session."
He froze for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line.
"Yes ma'am."
The commlink went dead.
Reha's gasp as she saw the sugary treat he brought numbed the dread he'd felt, and her smile as she bit into it made him believe he could do it for a brief moment.
Asher hung his armor on the rack in his office, his own private quarters attached to the room, the sensation of being lighter was odd to say the least, he felt soft and vulnerable but he stank of Arantara.
As he stood in the fresher, the water that coursed down him was dark orange from the grime and desert filth that had snuck its way into his bodysuit. The garment was ripe with sweat and ruined from the round he'd taken to the chest.
He took extra care to not get water onto the dressing, and shaved the field beard that had plagued him with itching since they'd returned.
A fresh set of fatigues on and a quick glance at the mirror, the scar angry red from his scrubbing.
The Medic Captain banished the unpleasant memories and moved to General Nema's office.
He chimed the door and roughly swallowed.
The door slid open and her voice beckoned him.
"Come in Captain, right on time." She smiled.
"Ma'am." He greeted as he crossed the threshold. The door sliding shut behind him, the feeling of being trapped coursing through him.
A plug-in kettle bubbled in the corner, hissing with steam.
"Gatalenta tea, my personal favorite, would you like a cup?" General Nema asked with a hospitable smile.
"If you don't mind ma'am." He asked, curiously eying the amber liquid curiously.
As she poured two generous cups, Asher took in her office. It was sparsely decorated, trinkets sitting on her desk including a small, poorly made clay figure painted a garish lime green.
"Reha made it as a youngling, and gave it to me when she became my Padawan." The Jedi Doctor said with a friendly glance over her shoulder.
"It's… lovely General." He said simply.
"It's horrendous, but she made it." General Nema smiled again.
The way she moved, the way she smiled, it was as if she wasn't in a combat zone hours ago.
"Have a seat Captain." She gestured to the chair across her desk, gently placing his steaming cup.
Awkwardly he sat.
"Now, I will inform that everything we discuss here is confidential, under oath I cannot speak of this with anybody but you in private. And it will not be recorded in any way. Anything you say stays between us unless it endangers yourself or those around you."
He nodded, his hands running up and down his thighs nervously.
"I have been informed by Lieutenant Jace of your recent behavior, your brother worries." She intoned.
Asher stayed silent.
"We will be discussing your early life, you can share as much or as little as you like, but remember that I cannot help you if you sit there silently." She jested, another warm smile as she neatly folded her hands on the desk.
Once more he nodded, his throat felt dry, and he felt like a failure somehow. He felt defective, useless, a waste of a trooper.
"Let us begin, can you tell me about your childhood and training?" She asked.
"I was part of batch twenty-four sixty, I was intended to be a medic from the start."
"Did that impact your training and attitude at all?" She asked.
"The Long ne- Kaminoans… left the wellbeing of my brothers to myself and the other medics with more and more responsibility as we aged." He explained.
"So you feel utterly responsible for them?"
He looked at her as if the answer was obvious.
"Always."
"Do you feel like you failed them when they passed on Geonosis?"
The question hit him harder than the blaster bolt from the drop. Harder than the blows the Cuy'val Dar had taught him to take. The searing pain of a knife on his face paled in comparison to the wrenching pain in his chest.
"Every day." He murmured.
"You have to understand Captain that many of the casualties you cared for would have died even if you did everything right. I know what you told the men during their training, you tell them this but it seldom seems like you allow yourself to believe it."
He wanted to leave, he wanted to get up and storm out, he wanted to hit something. The bag in the gym beckoned for him.
"How does that event make you feel?"
"How does that make me feel? Like a defect, like a karking failure." He spat, "I remember every single one of them, the feeling of their life fading away under MY care."
General Nema remained passive, her face calm as she nursed the cup in her hands.
His nostrils flared, his body itched on his neck and shoulders. His breathing came out in harsh exhales as he fumed.
"I'm going to ask that you calm yourself Captain, anger is normal in this situation with how you feel, have you tried breathing exercises?" She asked.
His eyes narrowed but they didn't demand she stop speaking the look beckoned her to continue.
"Drink your tea, and we can start there."
Gently he grasped the ceramic, bringing it to his nose. It smelled faintly like flowers as he sipped slowly, the sweetness faint, whispers of flavor he'd never known before came and went as it heated him pleasantly to the core.
He sighed gratefully, Maker it was delicious.
"Shall we begin?" She asked with a radiant smile.
"Let's." He said.
Count to six, inhale and hold, count to six, exhale.
It wasn't unlike the breathing he'd done on the marksman ranges for long range shooting. But he found himself calmer now despite the raw feeling of the session with General Nema.
He felt vulnerable, weak, defective.
The Medic Captain banished the thought, he had a plan in place for the men. They'd earned a fine dinner for their stellar performance and he'd gotten a little treat as well.
He strode into the chow hall, his men milling about. The serving line was closed for now and the moment he put one boot inside, he heard the telltale cry.
"Atten-TION!" Cutter boomed.
A few hundred boots snapped to the proper position and silence dominated the room.
"As you were." Asher said and the men relaxed.
The food line steamed with fresh food, the salivating aroma he detected down the hall. Hunger beckoned his pace to quicken and he could feel his men's appetite as well.
Cutter leaned up against the head table with the rest of the higher ups. Jace sat reclined and gave his brother a knowing look and smile.
"Sir." Cutter greeted, and the other officers and senior NCO's did the same.
"Gentlemen." Asher greeted, "The General?"
"Trying to see if Commander Sul can walk, they're tracking what's happening." Sixes smiled.
The door slid open, and the Jedi walked in, her raised hand stifling any proper call to attention as she smiled sheepishly. Reha hobbled behind her, a mechanical brace aiding her efforts. Her hair was cleaned up, no doubt due to their most skilled barber, Showtime.
"General, Commander." Asher welcomed with a small smile.
"Shall we?" General Nema asked.
Despite her efforts, Reha beamed with a big smile as the Medic Captain stepped up onto the table.
"Listen up!" Cutter barked.
All eyes were on Asher as he took in his men.
"I'm going to keep it short because I'm sure you men are hungry." He jested.
It garnered a few chuckles, wasn't too tough a crowd.
"I expected the best, and you lot have exceeded it. You saved more troopers than any other engagement thus far, and sure gave the tinnies a rough go of it."
A few hoots and hollers came from his boys.
"We're going to Coruscant for some r'n'r. After that it's wherever the Republic wants us, but for now…"
The door slid open again and a technical droid pushed a massive cart, it's contents hidden.
Asher hopped down, nodded at the droid and kicked the release, the container slid open.
Kegs of Alderaanian Ale, sat in neat rows on the cart. It had been a pain to requisition, but he'd managed to sneak it onto their supply order. In a small box sat games, pazaak and a few dejarik boards.
"Here's the ale!" He announced as he hefted a keg to the ground and the men cheered, "And the entertainment!"
"For chow it's Nerf steak and all the sides!" He shouted and more cheers followed, "Every man grab a cup!"
The troopers clamored for a glass, snagging fresh ones from the dish rack and moving with gusto. Grind and excitement hung in the air pleasantly as they worked the nozzle.
The command team filled their glasses last, Asher receiving the very last cup as he stood atop the table.
He raised his glass.
"To our brothers who fell and the tinnies that followed them in retaliation. Here's to the trooper that fights and loves! May he never lack for either!" Asher roared, "Cheers boys!"
The men hollered and the Clones threw their glasses back.
Asher chugged greedily, the ale warming his belly as he drank. The frothy brew was delicious and the taste of victory coursed through him.
He sighed and wiped his mouth with his gauntlet and sighed as he spied the wildcard pilot antsy in his corner.
"Hit it Showtime." He said playfully, accenting it with a dramatic sigh.
"Yes sir!" Showtime hollered pressing the PA system onto the GAR's music radio.
"Eat! Drink! Have a good time!" Asher ordered finally stepping off.
The men attacked their new objective eagerly.
"Good speech, short." Jace mused as he returned with another glass for Asher and himself.
"Can't be too grand brother." The Captain joked.
Asher took the glass and met his brother's gaze.
"Listen Jace… I want to apologize about earlier I ju-"
"Stow it ner vod, nothing to forgive. We're alive aren't we?"
Asher chuckled.
"That we are."
They clinked glasses and drank.
Commander Sul sat on the table, straightening her bad leg as she lounged. Cutter brought her a plate stacked too high for the small woman and she thanked him graciously.
"Let me know if you need anything, best to stay off that leg." Cutter said as he moved to get another glass of ale.
"Glad to see you're on your feet Commander." Asher spoke, plopping down next to her.
"Good to move around, still a little stiff but what Master Nema has me on is keeping the pain away." She explained as she took a few bites of her steak, her eyes rolling back in bliss.
"I see Showtime fixed your hair?"
She ran a hand through it, smiling.
"Shorter than I'm used to, but going to be better in a helmet."
She'd gotten it cut into a faded pixie cut, her hair sitting tousled atop her head.
"Suits you, almost look like a soldier." The Captain joked as he sipped his ale.
The men played games, pazaak with bets of duty shifts or small favors. Cutter instantly forbid the bet of weapon cleaning as a trooper should always maintain his own arms. Showtime and Will were the card sharks it seemed, but the laughs were infectious.
"The men seem to be in good spirits." General Nema intoned, sitting with a glass of water and the vegetarian meal option of noodles.
"They earned it ma'am." Asher shrugged finishing his glass.
"Aren't you worried they might get too rowdy?" She asked as an arm wrestling competition came forth, Cutter already the champion.
"We're troopers ma'am, you want us rowdy." He said with a smile.
She gave him one back.
"Commander Sul! Commander Sul! Drink with us!" Showtime asked, jogging up to her with a grin.
"I uh… I don't…" She glanced to her Master who gently nodded.
"They're your men Reha, it's up to you."
Reha stood stiffly, Showtime helping her to her feet as she moved to the table.
"Can Jedi drink?" Asher asked with a raised brow.
"The Order doesn't forbid it, it's frowned upon we shall say, we do it primarily as a social device on diplomatic missions."
Cutter crossed his arms as the bane of his existence guided the Commander to a seat at the table, a cup of ale instantly in front of her.
"That di'kut is trying to challenge her to a drinking game. Heard the boys dare him to do it." He spat, "Say the word and I'll put a stop to it ma'am."
"There's no need, he won't win." General Nema smirked as she took a soft bite.
"But ma'am? All due respect she's young, and I doubt she'd even get close to beating Showtime."
The General dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and eyed the First Sergeant with a playful expression.
"What the good pilot fails to realize is a Zeltron has two livers… she can quite literally drink everyone in here under the table."
Cutter's eyes widened, Jace threw his head back and laughed, beer foam coming out of his nose as he coughed.
Asher couldn't stop his own laughter, as they watched the determined pilot lay down his challenge.
"I bet my cleaning duty on Showtime!" Mickey said, slamming a hand between the two.
The Pilot and Jedi Commander sat adjacent, a glass apiece. Showtime chugged faster and Reha took a testing sip before she threw it back, albeit sloppily. Despite her lack of skill, seeing their Commander drink seemed to fill the men with glee.
Showtime slammed the glass down with a cocky grin as he wiped his mouth. Reha finished hers and gently set it.
Asher stood and joined them, the men all held panicked looks but his lopsided smirk soothed them. He had a plan in mind, something akin to payback for Showtime's constant nuisance.
He memorized their names, between Showtime and Will there was Benji, Stud, Weaver, and Gale. A mix of medics that were going to learn a hard lesson, and infantry troopers that would soon by irate for their medics not being up to snuff on alien anatomy.
"I bet that Commander Sul will obliterate your sorry shebs and if she wins, you and all the others betting against her will be doing all the dishes leftover from tonight and hosing down the gunships." Asher crossed his arms.
"You're on sir!" Rang through the group.
"And if I win sir?" Showtime said with the usual daring smile.
"I'll clean the dishes and vehicles by myself, and you all will be off duty for a week."
"Deal!"
Asher gave Reha a pat on the shoulder.
"You got this."
He joined his command team, refilling his glass along the way.
"Stirring the pot?" Jace asked as he drank from a fresh glass.
The pleasant buzz was settling in, as Asher reclined next to him.
"Have to entertain myself somehow, my team is losing." He sighed with a dismissive wave at the bolo-ball game on the holo screens.
He'd briefly spoken to Rex, sharing a liking of the sport as he treated the 501st Captain.
Sadly they supported rival teams, and he could already foresee a scathing message from Rex talking trash about his team demolishing Asher's.
The pair were already halfway through their drinking game by the time Asher was sure every man had gotten a plate before he did. He'd always eat last, a leader ensured that his men were taken care of, that's what Captain Aldane had told him once.
As he ate he watched as Showtime slurred his speech and swayed ever so slightly. A set of empty cups sat before the two competitors. Reha seemed confused but not rattled in the slightest.
Showtime's rough chuckles were accented by his hiccups, the men glanced back and forth from the Jedi to the pilot as they set two more glasses.
Reha drank slowly, and Showtime roughly chugged.
"Heh heh… Commander! I'm going to win." Showtime slurred as he burped.
Reha's eyes narrowed curiously.
"That's odd, I think I'm starting to feel something…" She murmured, glancing at her glass.
"You see boys! She c-can't b-beat… beat… beat me!"
The pilot clattered to the floor, out cold.
"Well that's just perfect." Will groaned.
"Did I win?" Reha asked confused.
Asher knelt and the Clone Pilot snored.
"Yes ma'am you did." He announced as he rose.
Asher stood and savored the expressions of absolute confusion on the rival team's faces.
"Boys… I believe we had a deal, when this one sobers up, report to the kitchen at zero five-hundred tomorrow to start cleaning the dishes… and hose down the vehicles."
"Sir yes sir." Came the displeased response.
"And boys?" Asher said over his shoulder.
"Sir?"
"You'd do well to remember your anatomy, she's a Zeltron, she has two livers. You were never going to win." He snarked.
"Oh come on!" Will cried.
"What?" Asher shrugged.
"Sir you can't! That's not fair!" Stud protested.
"Ah ah… always go into your battles with the proper intel gentlemen." He advised, "Be better next time."
Asher grabbed a fresh cup, and Jace was already at a new table the rest of the newly christened "Mile High club" all around them.
"Sir! Come here!" Jace beckoned.
"What is it?" He asked.
"Good you've got a full cup, to celebrate our survival against insurmountable odds the boys and I have a little something something." He explained.
Kidd held up a set of Jump Wings. The badge every man under his command had earned for their airborne qualification, the silver glinting in the light of the chow hall.
"You hold this between your teeth, and you chug sir."
Asher shrugged.
"I'm game."
"Hey boys! Get an eyeful of this!" Bedlam announced.
Every man in the room watched the Captain. The Jedi peered curiously at the purely military ritual as Asher clasped the pins of the wings between his teeth. He hefted his glass, slammed the base of it onto the table softly and threw it back.
The Troopers hollered and hooted, cheering him on as he drank the brew.
"Captain!" One man cheered.
"Get it sir!" Another one shouted.
They started chanting his name, "Asher! Asher! Asher!" Over and over with stomps or palms slamming onto the table.
Before long the cup was empty, Asher grinned widely to display the shiny badge between his teeth.
The Troopers were rowdy before and now it was a madhouse, Reha's own words of praise joining as Master Nema clapped.
They sang, they ate and they drank.
The singing was horrifically off key, but even the Jedi found themselves joining as they learned the chorus.
Nero ran a pazaak tournament and Asher, notoriously bad at the game since he was a cadet had lost horrifically.
Cutter remained the arm wrestling champion. Bedlam, Mickey, Sixes and Gee had all made an attempt and none succeeded.
Reha drank but still didn't seem buzzed at all, General Nema decided to try a glass and stopped there. Her efforts got her more than enough praise.
Showtime had gotten an IV from some very intoxicated medics. The man that made the stick clutched the bag of saline as he sat, ale in one hand and the saline in the other. His partner leaned back in an alcohol induced daze as they traded barbs.
Asher sighed happily as he took in the infectious merriment, killing his drink before moving to get another.
For that night, the war seemed so far away as they drifted from Arantara and made the jump to Coruscant.